Pot of Corn
Inspired by Secret window. Mort Raniey is King's character. I do not own him.
Chapter One- The New Story
Restarting your life from the mid point is a hard way of living, if you asked me. I'm currently trying that grand feat and am so far succeeding in it. Ever since my little, mishap with my wife I've been a little on edge and into sleeping more then any other activity.
Ever since she completely disappeared out of my life about a month ago, along with Ted, her boyfriend, I've been feeling… refreshed. My writing had come back to me in ten folds, giving every publishers dream client new birth and storming the world with a brand new line of books that flew off the shelves faster then toilet paper during Hot pepper day.
I've been spending my time, in my house near the woods. Writing when I got up, till when I feel asleep. I eat corn now. That's about all I ever eat. Tons of it. In fact I have to go to the store and buy some salt and butter for dinner. As always, it will be corn.
Mort leaned back in his chair and stared at his laptop. It was the start of a new story. A real story. One about his own life and how he was trying to restart it, just like the main character in his new story, 'Pot of Corn'. He couldn't think up a plot to go along with the story. Maybe that was just it? He had to go out and get some fresh air and maybe a plot will drop into his lap?
He gave a small snort at the offending laptop as he closed it. He got out of the chair he had been sitting in for the last three hours. His legs were nearly asleep and his butt was completely numb. He didn't have much on save for a pair of shorts and his old robe with the holes in it.
He wondered outside of his house and went into the woods, looking around for anything to really catch his attention as to click his mind into figuring out a plot for his story. As soon as he thought that, a dog came around the tree he was standing next to.
Mort gave a half smile down at the mutt. The dog growled and bared his teeth.
"Shadow! Stop that." Said a woman's voice. Mort looked over to see a woman only ten feet from him. She had darkly colored hair with dark brown eyes. Her skin was tan and her cheek bones were defined. She was a pretty woman. And by her voice, Spanish.
"I'm sorry señor! Shadow has never done this before." She explained, beckoning the dog to go back towards her.
"It's fine." Mort said with a strained to keep even voice. "No problem. No problem at all."
She gave another sorry before grabbing the dog by the collar and leading him away.
Mort tilted his head and unhinged his jaw a bit, scratching the back of his neck. His mind suddenly decided it was going to work for him. He had his plot.
La mujer femenino bonito. The Beautiful Woman. Perfect.
It was the Prefect story. His mind filled with inspiration as his mind's eye stayed on the woman he had met earlier. She was Beautiful. Not so much so as to be in a magazine.
Mort quickly wrote down the beginnings of his story.
The forest gave life to the newest addition. A beautiful Spanish woman. One that was unordinary to the common world that was made up of greedy business men. It was a strange happening that only came around once every few years.
She was a radiant person with the spirit of a stallion. Her faithful dog, Shadow always by her side. They livid in the corner of the forest, minding their own ways. It was only ironic that a man should appear in their prefect world and bring upon it a darkening cloud of destruction.
She was simply roaming in her carefree way, wondering in and out of the tall trees with Shadow barking loudly at her side, when she spotted a darkened figure creeping from behind the trees.
"¿Qué es el hombre o diablo?" She cried out in a scared state.
"Tampoco." He answered her. "Ninguno el hombre o diablo."
What are you, man or devil? Neither. Neither, man or devil.
Mort paused. True to his mind's word, it gave him a start and a plot to follow, but nothing else. He moved his jaw around in a slightly nervous fury, glaring at the laptop. He needed more. He needed more of a plot. He was going to write the next greatest short story. He was. And the woman he met today, was going to help him weather she knew it or not.
A very short chapter. I'm sorry for this outcome. I wrote it in school, so I had to quickly type between teacher's glances. Please review!